


Harrien in Mirkwood

by excentrykemuse



Series: Harrien Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Creature Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excentrykemuse/pseuds/excentrykemuse
Summary: Legolas returns home to find a new elfling, Harrien, and falls in love with him.  Now he must wait until he reaches his five hundredth year and for the Fellowship to complete its task. Harry/Legolas





	Harrien in Mirkwood

Flowers did not grow in Mirkwood. Leaves did. Legolas Greenleaf had been named for them. However, there was a trail of black flowers leading through the forest and, although he had been planning to join the patrol although he was to go home to his father, King Thranduil Oropherion, these flowers caught his interest. He had never seen anything like them in Mirkwood. His light feet tread a path directly next to them and they came to stop at the base of an old sycamore. He looked up and saw only leaves. Legolas was not to be deterred, however.

Securing his bow, Legolas began to climb the tree and was arrested when, halfway up, he saw a Sylvan elf with hair so pale it could almost be white. It was in several braids that fell down to the elf’s shoulders, betraying high cheekbones and the most astonishing green eyes.

“Greetings,” a lyrical voice called.

“Greetings,” he answered as he moved up to see an elf lad dressed in a tunic, his face fair and pale and unlike any Legolas had ever seen. “Me g’ovannen.” (Well met)

He gave him a soft smile. “No, I have not thought of marriage as of yet,” He told him as if he expected this question from a male elf no less.

“I followed your flowers,” Legolas told him instead.

“Oh,” the elf answered, looking down. “I apologize. You would have been the fourth today. I assumed.”

Legolas looked at him. He was indeed beautiful. He would even say that his beauty matched Arwen Undumiel although it was different and far from effeminate. “I have been gone these twelve years,” he explained to him. “Are you new to Mirkwood?”

“Yes,” the strange elf stated. “I have been here but three years. I was brought from the wizards’ forests to these. I was born there. I am still learning Sindarin and Quenya, though that is not used here much. Let me try.” A look of concentration passed over him face. “El sila erin lu e-govaned win.” (A light shines upon our meeting)

Legolas gave him a soft smile.

“I have difficulty with that one. Forgive me. I am Harrien Moonflower.”

“Legolas Greenleaf,” he offered, glad that he didn’t blush. He knew that day would change his life.

~*~*~

It had been a fortnight and he had watched him. He sat with the other elf lads who cared not for warring pursuits, so unlike them with his shorter hair and the strange braids he wore in it. Legolas could see the long glances the male elves gave him, betraying that a preference for male company had been made known, and from his inquiries knew that many asked for him hand, but all were turned away.

However, Harrien walked alone during the day. He did not gossip with the others, never took part in their pursuits and pleasures. Harrien would stay in the library for hours, lost in himself, or would lose himself in nature, his feet bare, flowers springing up from wherever he stepped.

“Do the colors mean anything?” Legolas asked as he trailed him one day.

He looked at him, his brows furrowed, and then he followed Legolas’s gaze to the flowers at his feet.

“The first time they appeared they were black, but I was unhappy,” he admitted. “I don’t know what that means.”

“They’re blue like the sky today,” Legolas observed.

“Perhaps I love nature,” Harrien suggested, swinging behind a tree, hiding himself briefly, before he came around it and smiled. A vine sprang from his fingers, green leaves unfolding from it. “A gift.”

Legolas bowed his head formally. 

Harrien laughed and ran into the trees. Sensing the game, Legolas took off after him.

~*~*~

There was no way his father and his cousin, Silevren, had not seen the dark blue flowers that led to this tree. Legolas and Harrien sat on two different branches, their backs against the trunk, their hands reaching out to each other, fingers brushing. It was a pastime of lovers to come, and Legolas was almost frightened to realize that he was falling in love with this elfling who was coming of age in just a few short years. However, he refused to fight it, not when Harrien was so near, so dear to him. He had never thought about a preference before now. No one had ever caught his eye. 

No one before Harrien.

“Your son’s beauty,” Thranduil was now saying, “has certainly increased since he came to Mirkwood.”

Legolas looked down in confusion, unaware they were so closely related, and then glanced back at a questioning Harrien, who did not understand his reaction.

“I believe it will only continue to grow throughout the millennia. It must be his parents in him. The Valar have blessed me with such a child so late in life, even if they gave him to me so close to his majority.”

Nearly sighing in relief, Legolas relaxed into the tree and took up Harrien’s hand once again, his ears however perked toward the conversation.

“Our children will make a fine match, whenever they announce. Legolas is perhaps waiting for Harrien’s five hundred and first year, as is proper, though I would not blame him if he were to do so sooner with such a prize. Indeed, Harrien’s parents must have been noble given his demeanor. He will make a fine Prince Consort.”

“I wish only for Harrien to be happy, Cousin,” Silevren told Thranduil cautiously.

“I wish the same for my son. I have not once told him to find a mate in his three thousand years. I have not told him now, nor will I tell him anything of the kind.” Although, Legolas thought, he was strongly hinting at that very moment.

The conversation turned, making Harrien release a silent sigh from his lips. “I am thankful that Harrien’s beauty and birth never left Mirkwood, that we were able to contain the secret. He is the first elfling to be born in two millennia and his strange masculine beauty is rare. There might be pressure for him to marry an elleth.”

“Yes. I am surprised we have had such success over the past twenty-five years,” Thranduil agreed. “We shall hope it will continue.”

The two cousins moved away and Legolas looked over to Harrien. “Your father is the king?” Harrien asked.

He looked at him, startled. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” Harrien disagreed. “I did not. I knew Ada was cousin to the king and that he had two sons, but that is all. You do not sit at the royal table with King Thranduil and Prince Glamion.”

“I eat with my men,” he agreed. “Ada got used to it several millennia ago.”

He nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes. His fingers moved in his and he sighed in contentment.

~*~*~

“You must tell no one about him,” Legolas Greenleaf made Estel promise. “Not Elrond, not Arwen—no one.”

“I do not understand.”

“He is a treasure of Mirkwood.” He followed a pathway of deep purple flowers, careful not to step in them and enjoying his friend’s reaction to the blossoms.

“Flowers do not grow—“

“They do wherever Harrien steps,” Legolas told him, coming to the base of a tree. “Now we must climb.” He stuck his bow on his back and grabbed a branch, lightly climbing the tree until he saw the familiar glow of pale blonde hair and shining skin. Green eyes met his and Harrien smiled. “I brought a friend—sworn to secrecy. He is a ranger and was raised by Lord Elrond of Rivendell.”

“Lord Elrond?” Harrien exclaimed in surprise, his pale blue tunic brushing against a shoulder. “How peculiar.”

“No more peculiar than cousin Silevren raising you.”

“We are both woodelves, not elf and man.” 

Estel brought himself up and looked at Harrien, clearly stunned. The two took each other in before Estel stated, “El sila erin lu e-govaned win.” (A light shines upon our meeting)

“El sila erin lu e-govaned win,” he replied dutifully. (A light shines upon our meeting)

The two said little to each other, Harrien asking if Estel had a human name, which was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Harrien revealing that he had had one once. When Estel inquired, Harrien had only stated that he had “lost it.”

“No one can take a name,” Estel told him cautiously.

“Can they not? It’s like any other possession.”

Legolas knew there was a story there, but wouldn’t press it. It was clear that Harrien felt strongly about it and thought that Estel was being disrespectful. He had withdrawn into himself, his knees drawn up, his arms around them, his back against the trunk of the tree. He even began speaking in the language of the trees at one point, clearly dismissing them.

“He is cold,” Estel told him when they were far enough away.

“He is warm and loving. You hurt him deeply.”

“Over a name?”

“He was stolen by men!” Legolas stated harshly, “and not by the men of Middle Earth, which would have been kinder. He was stolen into wizard’s earth. They very probably can steal a name there. Perhaps he can no longer recall it even if it was his for decades.”

“I did not know—“ he stated apologetically.

“Yes, well now he won’t come down for days and I’m going to have to invent an excuse to my cousin, who looks after him. I think I’ll say I did it. I can’t imagine what else would have him stop from running from tree to tree, leaving flowers in his wake, or holing himself up in the library and reading about the Great War with Sauron. He has a strange interest with that. Go. I must check on him.”

Estel hesitated, whispering, “I will keep Mirkwood’s secret,” before departing in the underbrush.

Legolas looked back toward the tree and knew he would see no flowers for several days.

~*~*~

The shadow had grown and the call from Rivendell had come. Legolas had never seen Harrien in the archery fields, but he had come, flowers traveling behind him, black and sick with worry.

“Harrien,” he greeted, coming toward him after he released the last arrow in his quiver.

“You are going,” he stated. It wasn’t a question. Just a certainty.

“I am going.”

“Take me with you,” he breathed, leaning forward so that their foreheads were almost touching in a way that only lovers touched. 

Not pulling away, he breathed in his sweet scent. “You know I cannot.”

“Why can you not?” he begged. “I am a year from my majority! I am near a free elf!”

“Who must travel alone with another relative or with your husband.”

“Or with my betrothed,” he answered back. “Or would you have me ask Silevren to accompany me? You are not close enough a relation. I have waited decades for you to ask for my hand, but I took what the king said as truth and have never—hinted—as an elfling might. I only ask now because I would not have you leave my side. The entire court believes we are to be wed.”

He did not care what the entire court thought, but he would not voice that as he was in agreement with them. “It is a war council.”

“There will be ladies of Rivendell,” he reasoned. “Other elves who will not meet for war. What if Ada does come even if I am your betrothed to escort me home again if you must leave? I would not have you leave for certain without my seeing your face again.”

“Tis well. I will speak to Cousin Silevren before dinner and then speak to Ada. It shall be announced and we leave the day after the morrow.”

“Thank you,” Harrien breathed, touching their foreheads briefly. Harrien then breezed away, white flowers in his wake, as if he hadn’t been there except for those small blossoms.

After he was gone for several minutes, Legolas still standing there smiling, there was the sound of clapping behind him and he turned to see the other scouts smiling at him teasingly and giving him applause.

“The Lord Harrien has been wooed!” one called appreciatively. “Go to Lord Silevren before all Mirkwood hears of it first.”

With a bashful smile, Legolas leapt over the fence and found his cousin in the library. Beckoning him toward a small study room, Legolas bowed to him respectfully. “I have come to ask for Lord Harrien’s hand in marriage,” he stated stiltedly. “I will love him, respect him, and treasure him through all the days until we sail to Valinor together at each other’s side. Please grant my humble request.”

There was a pause. “He wanted to go to Rivendell, didn’t he?”

Legolas carefully stood. “Lord Harrien was slightly adamant. He asks that you come in case my services are needed—elsewhere.”

Silevren sighed. “It has been many centuries since I have seen Elrond’s halls. You take him because you truly wish him as your consort?”

“I was planning to wait until I returned, whether it was in a month or three decades. I believe Harrien is frightened he may never see me again.”

Silevren nodded. “There is much death in the wizards’ world. He was left an orphan far too young. He saw his adoptive father murdered, I believe, and he only told me that four years ago.” Silevren gave Legolas a wistful smile. “You have my consent. I will speak to the king and an announcement will be made.”

There was much rejoicing and wine and Harrien stayed for the dancing. He actually wore shoes, which was unlike him, though Legolas supposed he would see him wearing them for the entirety of their journey. In the end they stood beneath a bower of vines and they shared their first kiss, the bower erupting full of red flowers as lips met lips and heart melded with heart in the elven way. When he leaned back to look into Harrien’s beautiful green eyes, Legolas smiled at him. 

“Now I know what it means,” Harrien murmured. 

“What, Harrien-mine?”

“I will be your heart. The phrase is not meant for wizards at all.”

He looked at him strangely, but kissed his forehead and held him close, knowing he would never want to let go again.

~*~*~

Silevren was sitting by a tree when Legolas approached, looking for Harrien. He had disappeared a half hour before and Legolas worried for him.

“Not a step forward, elf,” his cousin told him.

“Harrien is missing. I cannot find him in the trees and he wears sandals so I cannot follow his footprints.”

“That is well. They start in the glade,” Silevren told him. “He bathes this night in the river. You do not step farther, young elf. You are simply betrothed.”

Legolas bowed his head in understanding. “I did not mean to offend.”

“You did not offend. You knew not.” He made a gesture for Legolas to leave. 

Looking longingly toward the hidden glade and wondering how long their engagement would have to be, Legolas moved back to the horses. Less than an hour had passed when he was joined by Harrien, who took all of his thoughts. 

“The river is cool,” Harrien told him. “We have a week left to our journey.”

“I would not leave either of us so unguarded. Either your ada must watch me or he must guard you.”

“Ada bathes,” He informed. “Let it cool you. We will hear if anything is near. You are a warrior. You have bathed alone before, I am certain, and I am not helpless. Legolas.”

“I don’t like being without you,” he confessed, not looking at him although he took Harrien’s hand, “now that we have been so close. I will be your heart, Harrien.”

“Then all is well. I shall rest when Ada emerges. The choice is yours.”

However there was no choice. Legolas would wait for Rivendell and sleep a little ways away from his love in respect. How had he come to adore him over less than three decades? He had declined to run the borders with other elves just to be near Harrien. His name suited him perfectly: Harrien Moonflower. The flowers that led just from the edge of the clearing shone in the moon’s light.

~*~*~

Elrond bowed to them when they arrived. “Prince Legolas Greenleaf, your arrival was expected. Will you not introduce me?”

“My father’s cousin, Lord Silevren Krananuil, and his ward and my betrothed, Lord Harrien Silevreniel.”

“A light shineth on our meeting, Lord Silevren, Lord Harrien. Lord Harrien, perhaps when you are rested, you would care to meet my daughter, Lady Arwen Undomiel.”

“I thank you for the honor. Our ride was hard and I would like to settle in with Ada and Legolas first if that is agreeable.”

“You are most welcome to the Last Homely House. Your every comfort will be seen to, Lord Harrien. I would see you happy, warm, and with your equals.”

Elrond bowed again and Harrien bowed to him. They were shown to luxurious rooms and Legolas saw Harrien with an uncharacteristic kaftan head toward the baths. “Will you bathe now, Greenleaf?” he asked playfully. “There are no orcs or spiders here.”

“If I know you will be safe,” he responded, “and if it would please my lord if I smell of wood flowers.”

“I smell of wood flowers,” Harrien told Legolas, taking off his shoes and walking along the stone path, flowers springing up between the cracks. “Will you not follow, Greenleaf? Perhaps I will grow a vine around a tree for you so that we might be together even when we have left this place.”

He hurried after him as soon as he fetched his clothes and he kissed his head as they wandered down to the baths, separating to their separate pools of water. Legolas tried to relax, but he could not. Leaving far before he knew Harrien would, Legolas dressed and waited for him until he finally emerged in a kaftan of blue silver, tied at the sides to show off a figure that Legolas rarely glimpsed in his tunics.

“Do I look well?” Harrien asked, his wet braids tied so they ran back and forth across his scalp so it barely reached his shoulders.

“You look well,” he promised. Taking his hand, he kissed it before tangling their fingers. “You are well after our journey?”

“I am well,” Harrien agreed. “I wish to see more of this place.”

“Then we shall see more,” Legolas promised, leading him down some steps and away from the cluster of buildings, which surely meant they would now be moving toward nature. When they came to a secluded area, Legolas was surprised to see Estel with an elven maiden, passionately speaking love to him.

Turning Harrien’s face from the lovers, the sound of Harrien’s breath catching caused the elleth to look up and blush. She moved away from Estel, a necklace of mithril passing between them, and she looked at Legolas and Harrien. “Galdol!” (Greetings) “Welcome to my home.”

“Me le ‘ovannen,” (Well met) Legolas replied. “You startled my betrothed.”

“You are betrothed, my friend?” Estel asked as Harrien looked up at the pair.

Legolas looked at him piercingly. “I am. Lord Harrien has given me the honor of his hand, and his father has agreed. You will no doubt see him among these woods. Will you not introduce us?” He, of course, recognized the Lady Arwen by reputation, but the two had never actually encountered one another.

“Prince Legolas, Harrien,” Estel introduced carefully, “the Lady Arwen Undumiel, daughter of Lord Elrond.”

Legolas bowed though Harrien did not as he looked at the other elf. Looking at his betrothed, Legolas corrected, “Lord Harrien Moonflower, son of Silevren Krananuil, cousin to King Thranduil.”

“He is your uncle,” Estel stated carefully though incorrectly. They were not so closely related.

“As the mortals would say,” Lord Harrien stated coldly, “I am adopted. Lord Silevren took me and raised me.” He clearly still did not care for Estel. “I heard Lord Elrond did the same for you, which is why you have an Elven name. You should be familiar with the concept. Mine, however, is more binding as I am an elf.”

Lady Arwen tensed.

“Henion.” (I understand) “I apologize that I offended you when we first met.”

He did not answer. Instead, Harrien looked at Arwen. “Your ada spoke of you kindly. He suggested that while the warriors and archers were at their discussions, you would perhaps show me Rivendell.”

Arwen glanced at Estel. “I would be happy. You traveled alone with the prince?”

“No. Ada came. I take it he will be with the council, is it?”

“Yes, it meets tomorrow.”

“It meets tomorrow,” he acknowledged with a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Come and find me.”

He left then, his hand trailing down Legolas’s wrist, telling him to stay, and he looked at his back entreatingly. “That’s the first time in all these decades I have seen him in something other than an archer’s tunic,” he told his friend.

“Lord Harrien does not care even for a nobleman’s robes?”

“No. He says he used to fly in the wizards’ land and he never wore kaftans then.” He sighed. “I wish I could let him fly again, but I have not the means.”

Arwen looked between the two friends and bowed. “Perhaps the Lord Harrien will get lost,” she said as she excused himself. Legolas doubted it, but he didn’t say anything.

“We are called to a council,” Legolas stated, “but I do not need the Lady Galadriel’s foresight to know that we are going on a journey and that I must leave Harrien behind. Lady Arwen gave you her favor.”

“Yes,” Estel answered, placing it around his neck. “I pray that you will gain such a gift from your beloved.”

“My betrothed cares not for material items,” Legolas excused. “I will have him in my heart.”

The council was loud and Legolas knew that he had to go and represent the race of elves. He was a seasoned warrior and though his heart ached for Harrien, he knew he would understand that it was his duty.

“I fought a Dark Lord once,” Harrien told him. “I do not believe he had a ring or anything of the sort, but I still fought him.” Harrien was standing close to him, almost touching him, his hands running down Legolas’s arm. “My father gave me the leather for this bracelet,” Harrien stated, wrapping a long thong around Legolas’s wrist, “and the cross is a symbol of a religion I followed before I came to Mirkwood. I pray that our God will keep you safe until you may return to me.” A strange cross made of steel was hanging from the leather, the lower spear longer than the others.

“What does it mean?”

“It is a torture device used to execute enemies of the state,” Harrien told him. “Jesus Christ was killed on a cross like this and then rose from the dead three days later before ascending into heaven. He was of God and he was God, begotten and not made.” He smiled. “It is a religion that is difficult to understand, but it is mine. I try to pray to the Valar, but I find it difficult as I was raised with this one. I hope the Valar are not offended that I give this to you.”

“The Valar are not offended,” Legolas told him as he pulled him into his arms. “They know that you give it to me in love. That is what matters, Harrien.”

~*~*~

In the depths of the Dwarfish Mines he prayed to Harrien’s god, holding the cross close, hoping that he would survive and see him again. A Balrog tried to claim his life, but chose Gandalf instead. When he arrived in Lothlorien, Galadriel spoke in his mind: “Harrison Potter left one world and was reborn as Harrien Moonflower. The small part of Harrison that survived gave you that cross. If you cannot love both, then do not love at all.”

The thought was preposterous to him. He adored Harrien with all his heart and he treasured the cross that he gave him. He held his wrist close as he slept, a smile on his face.

~*~*~

He stood in the White City, looking out over Gondor and marveling at its beauty. The newly made King Elessar was arguing with his advisors over a bride, his coronation only two weeks away. Velvets would arrive from Mirkwood for him to wear along with his own coronet. Harrien was waiting for him at home and he would ride to his side and make him his prince consort as soon has his duties were discharged here. It had been three long years since he had last seen his beloved face, his pointed ears, his braided pale blonde hair that only came to his shoulders, his hypnotic green eyes.

Legolas hated waiting for the chance to leave. Living in what would be the Elvish quarter, he uttered a harsh “Tolo” (Come) when there was a knock on his door. 

Someone quietly stepped in and placed what he assumed were his robes on the bed and he moved his hand in such a way for them to leave.

“Will you not even look at me, veleth nin?” (my love)

The soft voice instantly rang through the room and he turned to see Harrien, his hair braided to the side and dressed in a brown tunic and leggings. Legolas was immediately standing from his chair, knocking it over, and embracing him.

“Le melin. I have missed you,” he whispered longingly, tears coming to his eyes. (I love you) “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

“Then never be parted from me,” Harrien reasoned, his hand holding the back of his head to hold him closer. “I brought robes of purple and blue for myself with King Thranduil’s blessing. I have my own coronet. We can be married tonight under the stars. Ada has come for the soul purpose of giving my hand to you.”

Legolas pulled away and looked at his smiling face. “Darling, can this be true?”

“I lie not,” Harrien promised, gently reaching up and kissing him lightly. “It is you and only you.”

“Say there has been no one else,” he declared sweetly, resting their foreheads together.

“There has never been anyone in Middle Earth,” he promised. “For a short time—I thought—but I was wrong. I learned how quickly I was wrong. I think it was his magic that I was attracted to and I was so lost that I needed something, anything to make me feel as if my feet held to the ground.”

Legolas brushed the side of Harrien’s face. “Ni melig? Truly?” (Do you love me?)

“Sevig i veleth nin,” he swore. (You have my heart)

~*~*~

They were dressed in their royal robes and coronets, Legolas’s friends from the Fellowship present along with his new ones from Rohan and Gondor. Elves surrounded Harrien and Silevren placed his hand in Legolas’s, speaking the words to bind them together, and then they shared a sweet kiss of felicity, joining their souls together.

There was much rejoicing and at the banquet table, Harrien traced the thong that he had placed on his wrist all the years before. Carefully, before the feast was done, Legolas led him from the table, wishing to kiss away his blushes. Soon they would truly be one and nothing would ever separate them again.

~*~*~

They sat on their horses, ready to join the Elven convoy back toward Lorien, Rivendell, and Mirkwood. Only Arwen was to stay as the new Queen of Gondor, a smile on her face as she stood beside King Elessar, the once Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the child Estel. “Ci velethril e-guil nin,” Harrien whispered. (You are the love of my life)

Legolas took his hand and kissed it. Legolas Greenleaf was glad the Fellowship was broken. He wished to go home with his new Prince Consort to Mirkwood Forest.

**The End**


End file.
